


Confessions

by BollingerKnickers



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BollingerKnickers/pseuds/BollingerKnickers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected situation forces Serena to confront her feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Written at midnight, so I apologise for any mistakes.

The green light of the entry swipe glowed in the darkness of the ward, distracting the nurses who were settling behind the station for the night shift.

“Ms Campbell? Can I help you?” Recognising her, the male nurse (Jack, Serena thought his name was) had risen to greet her. His face demonstrated puzzlement as he took in her trench coat and satchel, unsure whether she was here for personal or professional reasons. He turned, following her gaze towards the whiteboard listing the patient’s names which was faintly illuminated by the computer monitors at the station. Reluctant to interrupt Serena, he hesitated, before Serena distractedly turned to him, responding to his question.

“I’m looking for someone… Bernie Wolfe. Berenice Wolfe,” she clarified, doubting that there would be more than one Bernie on the ward, but unsure whether or not the nurses here would know her by her nickname. “I know it’s not visiting hours but... well, I’m usually busy at those times” she said with a small smile, glancing over his shoulder to the beds beyond, searching for a glimpse of blonde curls.

He nodded his understanding before checking the whiteboard and pointing to the end of the row of beds. “Bed number 4,” he said, “it’s on the right, at the end.” Serena smiled her appreciation, grateful to the nurse for breaking the rules though she suspected this was more to do with her superior status within the hospital than his generous nature.

Serena was unused to being in such a quiet environment within the hospital, the beeping of the machines accompanied only by the squeak of her shoes on the floor, and the distant ticking of the clock. She thought of Jason at home, counting down the hours until Serena got back. She had warned him that she was going to be late and had given him an approximate time of arrival that she knew she would have to stick to, and though he was initially disgruntled, when he heard the reason for the disruption to his routine, he was surprisingly accepting.   
  
Approaching the end bed she hesitated, pulling back the curtain and slipping inside, setting her bag down on the floor next to the plastic visitor’s chair before shrugging off her coat, uncomfortable in the stifling heat of the ward. Her movements were careful and considered as she tried to avoid making too much noise, not wanting to wake up any of the surrounding patients, or Bernie. She was tempted to assume the role of the surgeon and go straight for the notes held in the rack at the end of the bed but she resisted, instead taking in the surroundings. Bernie was lying peacefully, her eyes closed in a deep sleep as machines monitored her heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation which Serena was relieved to see were all within safe limits. IV lines connected Bernie to vital fluids and antibiotics but fortunately, she was no longer reliant on a ventilator. Serena breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that this was a sign of improvement. If she had had her way she would have tracked every new note in Bernie’s record through the electronic records system, but Raf and Fletch had persuaded her that it was unwise. After all, she had her own patients to focus on, and Bernie was receiving the best care. Serena knew they were right, but she still felt the need to monitor the situation herself and make sure that Bernie was being looked after properly.

Taking her eyes away from the surrounding monitors, Serena turned her attention to her friend, noting the way that Bernie’s hair fell loosely around her face, studying her pale, restful features in detail. Bernie’s hand rested on the bed, dark bruises framing the bandage that held her cannula in place. Serena reached out instinctively before drawing her hand back and intertwining it with her other, resting them in her lap to avoid invading Bernie’s space. For a time, she just sat, her breathing falling in time with Bernie’s whilst she watched her, noticing details that she never had before – the fine spread of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the high arch of her cheekbones, the smoothness of her skin across her collarbones and chest.

“Oh Berenice Wolfe, you are a stubborn fool,” she said in a whisper, shaking her head. God she hoped that Bernie would wake up soon so that she could give her a piece of her mind; at least then she might stop feeling so guilty. Serena had noticed the symptoms immediately once Bernie had been unable to hide them any longer. They had been preparing an audit proposal and unsurprisingly, Bernie was working close to the deadline. Determined to please Serena and get the job done, Bernie had failed to tell anyone about the pain in her abdomen that had started in the centre before radiating to the lower right. The classic symptoms of appendicitis that any of them would have known. Bernie had known herself of course, but had pushed it to the back of her mind, instead getting on with the task in hand as she had been taught to do. Serena had only found out when she reached out to catch Bernie as she collapsed towards the floor in their office, bent double, clutching the right side of her abdomen. However, there had been complications and a ruptured appendix had led to peritonitis, infection of the abdominal cavity, which had led to her admission to intensive care

“I hope you know this is your own fault. I’m not blaming myself for this,” Serena said to Bernie, whether she could hear her or not. Though of course, she did blame herself, despite knowing that there was nothing more that she could have done. If Bernie wanted to keep something from you, then you had no chance of finding it out. Unless she let you.

“AAU and the trauma unit are running just fine without you by the way,” Serena said, tilting her head towards Bernie, almost expecting to see her turn the corner of her lips up in a smirk before giving some witty comeback. Serena smiled to herself at the thought, already missing the presence of her colleague in the office and on the ward, missing the smell of her perfume and the familiar sight of her grey hoodie slung across the back of her chair.

“Though I’m not sure I am,” she added, the smile fading from her face, still focused on Bernie’s unusually silent form. “If I hadn’t been so worried about you, I’d be so bloody angry right now. I don’t know what on earth you were thinking, ignoring your symptoms all day, all because of a measly audit. Did you really think that I would care that much about it? That I’d care about it more than you? Because you’d be wrong,” Serena said, her eyes glazing with tears as she thought of how unwell Bernie had become in such a short space of time, how Bernie had risked her own health for the reputation of AAU and the trauma unit, and for her.

Serena’s hands had unclasped to meet Bernie’s outstretched one, taking comfort from the warmth and softness she found there. Any doubts that Serena had had about her feelings for Bernie had been washed aside in the last 72 hours. She had been terrified of losing her, out of her mind with worry, emotionally invested in their relationship far beyond that that would be expected of just a colleague or a friend. Serena had been questioning her feelings for weeks now, months – since they’d met, if she was honest with herself but she’d been so reluctant to raise the conversation, afraid that she was just confused, afraid that even if she did work out her feelings that Bernie wouldn’t feel the same way.

“Funny how quickly things change isn’t it,” she said, partly to herself and partly to Bernie, smiling sadly as she wiped away stray tears, dreading to think of how things could have turned out so differently, and how they could have wasted their chance at happiness. At least they had a second chance now that Bernie was recovering, for which Serena was grateful.

“Though don’t go expecting any declarations of love when you come round, it’s not really my style,” Serena sniffed, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she became more comfortable just talking to Bernie, rather than conversing with her. “I could buy you a bottle of Shiraz, maybe that would do the trick. But come to think of it, whiskey’s more your tipple isn’t it. Do you like flowers? I’m not sure you’re the flower type. And I’m not sure I’m the flower buying type to be honest. Maybe not flowers then.”

“Did someone mention whiskey?” Serena realised that she had been staring into space as her rambling thoughts had taken hold, and had failed to notice the fluttering of Bernie’s eyelashes until the strained, husky voice had broken Serena’s reverie.

“Bernie,” Serena said in surprise as she turned to her, peering into her eyes to check that she was okay before glancing at the surrounding monitors to assess for any cause for concern.

“I believe so. Unless something’s happened that I’m not aware of,” she replied, her voice quiet and slower than usual, but steady. Serena couldn’t help but smile, relieved that despite everything Bernie still managed to attempt a joke.

“You’re doing well,” Serena said in reply, their eyes meeting for the first time in three days, after what felt like a lifetime. “No thanks to yourself of course,” she added, failing to keep the scorn out of her voice as Bernie smirked. “It’s not funny Bernie, you could have died!” Serena said, her voice rising and her face stony, unable to see what Bernie found so amusing.

“I know, I know,” Bernie murmured in reply, squeezing Serena’s hand that was still entwined with hers. Serena glanced down at the gesture, having forgotten that she had taken Bernie’s hand earlier and began to withdraw slightly before Bernie squeezed again. “Leave it,” she said, looking up at Serena and smiling. Serena relaxed and squeezed Bernie’s hand in return, surprised at how comfortable and familiar it felt already.

“I was only laughing because… I’ve served in Afghanistan for years, managed to survive emergency surgery on my heart and spinal cord, and yet it’s a bloody appendix that nearly gets me,” Bernie said, rolling her eyes at herself. Serena laughed, unable to remain angry for any longer this evening, instead thankful that Bernie was here, awake and sharing this moment with her.

As the smile faded from Bernie’s face, she struggled to lift her other arm, bringing her hand towards Serena and resting it upon her forearm, wanting to touch her to convey how she felt and add weight to her next words. “I’m sorry Serena. I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I just wanted to… to do things right for once. I wanted to show you how much I appreciate the trauma unit. And you,” she added imploringly, her eyes searching Serena’s for their familiar warmth and sparkle.

Serena gazed at Bernie with the same intensity, all concern for guarding her feelings gone. “I never expected you to put your own life in jeopardy Bernie, for goodness sake. Where would the trauma unit have been then, hmm? It can’t run itself; it needs you. The team needs you. I need you.” Her voice trailed off as she bit her lip, watching Bernie’s response. Bernie’s features softened, the glint returning to her eye as a wide smile broke across her face.

“Well judging by recent events, I think I probably need you as well Serena Campbell,” she replied, her grip tightening on Serena’s hands, afraid to let go, afraid that the moment would pass and leave them back where they were before. “Just promise me one thing,” Bernie added, looking at Serena with a question in her eyes.

“Of course,” Serena said, concern etching her features as she leaned towards Bernie.

“Please stop using embarrassing abbreviations in team briefings,” Bernie replied, beginning to laugh as she said it.

“Oh shut up,” Serena replied, tugging her hands away in mock outrage only for Bernie to pull them back tighter, almost stronger than Serena despite her bedridden state. “Okay, on one condition,” Serena relented, as Bernie pulled Serena down to her level so that their faces were mere inches apart. 

“And what would that be?” Bernie enquired, a smirk playing on her features and her breathing quickening as she studied the curve of Serena’s lips, could feel her breath on her face.

“You let me educate you on the delights of Dusty Springfield,” Serena replied, her eyebrow raised.

“Deal,” Bernie said, pulling Serena towards her to close the gap between them, their lips meeting, as equals, as partners, as lovers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Holby City, or any characters.


End file.
